


A Hypothetical Situation

by yellowblankets



Series: dont wanna be lonely, just wanna be yours [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:46:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowblankets/pseuds/yellowblankets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Jaehyun "proposes" to Taeyong on a Tuesday.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hypothetical Situation

The soda can in his hand is almost empty now, Taeyong languidly swirling the rest of the drink inside, left, right, left, right. It’s orange, his least favourite. But it’s also the only flavour left at the mini mart, everything else either iced coffee and other caffeine heavy drinks or, isotonic beverages. Beside him, Jaehyun gulps down his mineral water.

They’re at the park, the one that overlooks the town’s fire department and beside it, the local primary school. It’s mostly unoccupied, save for them and a couple sitting on the bench beside them, right next to the lamppost. College couple, Taeyong guesses, because unlike Jaehyun and him, they’re not wearing school uniforms but they’re also too young to be working. A part him twinges at the fact that at least they are done with school.

He should be at home by now, starting on his homework and helping his mother out with dinner, walking Ruby through the neighbourhood area before she gets too excited. But Jaehyun had asked for Taeyong to wait for him after he’s done with basketball practice, promising that it won’t take long – just an hour or two – and Taeyong, neither wanting to think about the disappointed glint in his mother’s eyes greeting him when he returns home later nor the guilty jolt that spirals from his chest to his stomach, had said, “Sure.”

His phone vibrates. He ignores it.

“Let’s start a band.” Jaehyun says. He’s drumming his fingers against the seat of the bench, humming that same song he’s been obsessed with for the past two weeks. Pillow Talk. The first time he heard the younger boy sing it under his breath, Taeyong couldn’t stop blushing. “You mean, hypothetically?” He glances at the boy next to him, just to make sure. Jaehyun nods. He’s always like this, talking about the what-ifs and the why-nots of the most unusual situation he would come up with. Today’s topic is nothing; last week, Jaehyun had tried to talk everyone into jointing their own version of a mardi gras circus. Ten, of course, jumped on the bandwagon.

Sighing, Taeyong takes one last sip before crushing the can in his fist, throwing it into the trash bin from across them. It misses. “I don’t sing, though.” It’s true. Unlike Jaehyun, humming is as far as he could go and Taeyong doesn’t really mind. He’s good at other things.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Taeyong shifts on the bench, scratching the scar on the right side of his face. It’s not actually itchy, just a habit he picked up over the years. Yuta said he usually does it when he’s anxious, kind of like when someone goes sick whenever they have to talk up front. Taeyong scowls. “You can sing.” He tells Jaehyun, who flashes him an amused look. “You sing really well. You’d be a great main vocalist.”

The laugh that leaves Jaehyun kind of reminds Taeyong of a rushing stream, like he used to swim in with his cousins. Taeyong can’t breathe. “And what would you be? Our bassist? Drummer?” The younger boy pauses, genuinely pondering over what role Taeyong would play if they had a band. It’s kind of unbelievably cute, Taeyong thinks, especially with the way he pouts. He bites back a smile and leans back against the bench, waiting.  


He likes this, whatever it is that he has with Jaehyun. It’s probably both the easiest and most complicated relationship he has among their group of friends. Yuta came with a decade long of history, from bruised knees and first kiss to cutting classes and fist fights. The rest kind of flocked together and didn’t quite wanted to leave. Jaehyun is different. Taeyong doesn’t know how or when it happened but one second Jaehyun went from being one of Yuta’s little recruits to someone Taeyong can’t imagine knowing without.

They gravitate together, him and Jaehyun. Or at least, Taeyong gravitates towards him. Jaehyun is something he knows he can’t touch – something pure and radiant and Taeyong wishes he’s kidding but if he had to choose the school’s golden boy, he’d choose Jaehyun within a heartbeat. The boy radiates kindness and it is there. It’s the way he smiles, warm and constant and so fucking genuine it’s almost blinding. It’s the way he persist in everything he does, nonstop and with perfection people can’t help but admire him. It’s the way Jaehyun lingers, carefully at first because of course he’s heard of the infamous Lee Taeyong. The liar, the joke, the disgrace. Yet he still lingers until the hesitancy disappears slowly and then completely, so confident that it leaves Taeyong thoroughly helpless.

He’s so brilliant that Taeyong genuinely wants to punch him sometimes. But those times are always overshadowed by something else, something that leaves him wide awake at night, cursing – always cursing – at how messed up he is. It’s a cascade of an experience for Taeyong; like taking a deep plunge in the water and breathing in the air at the same time. Jaehyun is exhilarating and that absolutely frightens him.

“Ah! I know!” Jaehyun exclaims, stirring him from his thoughts. They’re close, Taeyong realizes belatedly, startled at how their faces are only inches apart. If he breathes in, Taeyong could smell that familiar lavender earthy whiff that Jaehyun always seemed to carry with him. It’s everywhere at Taeyong’s locker. “You’d be our rapper! The best one!”

Taeyong cocks an eyebrow. “A rapper? In a band?”

“It’s the norm now.” Jaehyun insists. “The Neighbourhood has a rapper.”

It makes Taeyong laugh because of course Jaehyun would link it to another British/American act that he’s currently obsessed with. For someone with a pretty voice, Taeyong had mentioned to Yuta once, Jaehyun has really shitty music taste. Yuta had agreed. Chuckling, Taeyong leans further back into his seat, slipping his eyes shut as he does so. He vaguely feels Jaehyun’s imploring eyes on him.“You don’t think you can rap?” He prods, poking Taeyong on the knee. Taeyong shrugs. “No, I think I’d be a great rapper. But talking really fast doesn’t count as rapping, you know?”

He peeps through his eyelids and smiles when he catches Jaehyun glaring at him. “Well,” the taller boy muses, “I guess you’d make a solid dancer too.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s Ten, Jaehyun. He’s already the best dancer among us.” Taeyong replies, scrunching up his face at the image of Ten silently fuming at the idea of being a lead dancer. It would not be pretty, he concludes, even if it’s hypothetically. “Besides,” Taeyong adds, throwing an incredulous look at Jaehyun who’s currently sporting his thinking face. It’s the one that makes his eyebrows furrow together, making him look he’s frowning. It’s cute. “I think you’re confusing a band with a boy group. No one really dances in bands.”

Jaehyun pauses, bottle in the air. “…Probably.”

Taeyong cracks up.

They’re not alone anymore, the sun painting warm hues across the sky, just in time for kids to burst into the playground with their parents. A little boy hollers about a new ball. A small dog scampers past, tongue rolled out of its panting mouth while the owner, a bald elderly man, tags casually behind. He shares a smile with Jaehyun. “You know,” Taeyong begins, fishing in his pocket for the chewing gum he bought from the mini mart earlier, “A boy group - or a band in your case – would need a really awesome name if they want to be famous. Like Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Or, H.O.T!” He pops the gum into his mouth.

“A name?” Jaehyun thinks it over. “Ah, you’re right! We need a really a good one.” His hands are playing with the bottle in his lap, shifting it from one hand to another. It’s distracting to say the least so Taeyong does what he deems reasonable – he grabs the other boy’s hands to still it. They’re warm, like they usually are, and bigger than Taeyong’s that it’s difficult for him to envelope a single hand over them. It takes him a second to realize that Jaehyun hasn’t said anything for a while now and when he looks up to find the younger boy staring straight at their linked hands, Taeyong immediately pulls them away, face heating up in embarrassment. He flushes even further, however, when Jaehyun tugs them back.

Their hands make a weirdly perfect match, Taeyong thinks, his bony veiny hands over Jaehyun’s smooth, almost pristine one. Even his hands are beautiful, what the hell.

“I think,” The younger boy muses, flashing a dimple smile at Taeyong that may or may have not made his chest hurt, “We should name our hypothetical band/boy group ‘Rookies’.” Taeyong chokes on his gum. He almost breaks his neck, turning his head to the side to gape at Jaehyun. “That’s awful!” He exclaims, completely forgetting about the hand holding over the atrocity of Jaehyun’s suggestion. It makes his toes curl in disgust, literally. “That’s like…that’s like naming our band NCT! NCT! What would that even stand for?” He’s probably yelling right now but Taeyong doesn’t care. He’s too horrified.

Jaehyun grins. “Hmmm, I don’t know.” He ponders. “Maybe…neo culture technology?”

Taeyong leaves him right then and there.

He’s halfway at the swings, the long strides of his legs making his escape even swifter but Jaehyun has longer legs thus longer strides so it’s barely a minute later when a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around Taeyong’s waist, pulling him back from leaving. Jaehyun laughs in his ear. “Let me go, Jung Jaehyun, or so help me, God, I’ll make you!” Taeyong cries out indignantly, flushing at the scene they’re making. Almost all the parents and older kids are watching them, no doubt trying to make sense of the two boys hugging at the side of the playground. He squirms in Jaehyun’s hold.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Jaehyun laughs, freeing him just enough to make the older boy turn around and face him. His eyes crinkle in the edges, the way it does when he’s happy. It softens Taeyong’s embarrassment a little. “I promise we won’t name our band/boy group ‘NCT’ if it makes you happy.” Jaehyun says solemnly, arms still encircled around Taeyong’s waist, tugging him closer when he tries and fails to pull away again.

Taeyong sighs. “As if anyone would want me in their band.” He mutters, cringing at the bitterness lacing out of his words. He starts chewing on his lower lip when the joke falls flat on his tongue and the mirth in Jaehyun’s eyes evaporates almost immediately. He doesn’t know why he does it, crashing on other’s good time with his awful jokes. He’s been told that his humour is self-deprecating at most, really dry the next. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why Taeyong’s quiet most of the time.

His phone vibrates for the third time that evening; Taeyong shuts it off.

He is determined to not look at Jaehyun, purposely staring beyond the boy’s shoulder at a tree; a group of middle school boys playing soccer on the field; a piece of paper on the ground, crunched and dirty. Taeyong jumps a little, however, when he feels something stroking his cheek. “What-” He yelps, but he’s silenced when a firm hand gently grasps his chin, tilting him to meet Jaehyun’s eyes. His heart drums wildly agaisnt his chest; so loud that Taeyong fears Jaehyun might hear it. He eyes the boy warily.

“Lee Taeyong.” Jaehyun begins, and maybe he’s imagining it but the younger boy’s voice seems tight, like he’s angry or something. It doesn’t help Taeyong’s thrashing heart. “I don’t know if you know this or maybe you’re purposely being dense with me, but trust me when I say this – you are very important.

“I know you like to pretend that you don’t care, that you’re the cool mysterious one among us but I see through that, Taeyong, and it’s sad that no one sees what I see. Because I see a loyal, passionate guy who cares about his friends – someone who would drop everything to help his loved ones. Everything. And that’s a valuable thing to have and if no one else sees it, then it’s their lose. Taeyong, you are important and anyone would be lucky to know you. Really, really lucky.”

The hand on Taeyong’s waist is tight, so much that it’s almost bruising but Taeyong can’t find it in himself to care. He stares, wide eyed, at the expectant Jaehyun, seeking something – anything – to say at the sudden influx of words thrown at him by the usually quiet boy. He’s not used to this, being showered by this level of attention. Taeyong is the kind that lingers behind or in the shadows, tiptoeing and careful, not pushed to the front lines. No one notices him, not really .Until Jaehyun, apparently.

Taeyong vaguely hears Yuta at the back of his head, a little smug, a lot amused. He flips him off.

“OK.” Taeyong settles on. It’s perfect. It’s not too long, not too emotional. He thinks he’s shaking, he’s not sure, but Taeyong doesn’t stop the bashful smile breaking out on his face. It gets a smile out of Jaehyun.

“Now, I have a very important question.” The other boy announces, brushing a comforting thumb against the skin of Taeyong’s waist, back and forth, back and forth. It’s oddly soothing. Taeyong swallows. His head is still whirling at the previous words, still making sense of it. He glances at Jaehyun wearily. “What is it?” He allows. Jaehyun grins cheekily. “Would you, Lee Taeyong, do me the honour of joining my band?”

“What.”

Jaehyun, that bastard, laughs. “I said, will you join my hypothetical band?”

And maybe it’s dumb and maybe Taeyong would be embarrass about it later but Jaehyun is staring at him like…like he’s waiting for something that only Taeyong could give him, something he’s been craving for a long time. His tone is mischievous, the little grin still plastered across his pale face, but his eyes are dark and grave, leaving Taeyong inevitably drowning in the abyss. Breathless. Panting. Longing.

It reminds Taeyong of the stream, the same one he went to during the summer. It was only a couple of miles from his uncle’s place, just beneath the bridge, overseeing the forest behind. He thinks of the wild hammer of his heart when he looked upon the banks, anxious, nervous, excited – all of them jumbled together. His cousins had shouted at him, to join, to try. And he did. Taeyong remembers the strain of his legs when he ran, adrenaline and euphoria drunk, never looking back, not even once. He remembers the desire overwhelming him that day, his voice urging – no, yelling – at him to do something that he knows he won’t regret. And Taeyong wonders, “Are they really that different?”

Jaehyun is still staring at him, still waiting.

(He says yes.)

**Author's Note:**

> So the premise of this story is basically Taeyong and Jaehyun sitting on a bench in a park talking about their hypothetical band/boy group called NCT. Original, right? This is also posted on AFF.


End file.
